Sligger Island Page 5

  Mitch raised his hands. “Hey, easy, that’s not what I meant. I’m not blaming you for anything.”

  Danny still hated himself for striking the reef. He knew how the reefs were laid out around the island, and had a pretty good idea how to get through them without incident. He would give anything to go back in time and be able to navigate them again. Realizing he was angry at himself and not others, he apologized to Mitch.

  “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just upset at myself.”

  “It’s okay,” said Eaver. “None of us saw the reef. It must’ve been just below the surface enough to where we couldn’t see it. It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah,” Mason reassured. “Don’t worry about it, Danny. We’ll figure it out.”

  Danny’s eyes were welling with tears, brought on by the combination of his predicament and the moving support of his friends despite his failure to take them to safety. “Yeah?” he asked. “You think we’ll be okay?”

  Mason got to his feet. “I think so. We just have to be smart.” He set his hands on his hips and surveyed the area around the beach. “Like maybe we get a signal fire going.”

  Jesse was nervous. “What if the fire brings those monsters out? We have nothing to defend ourselves with.”

  “And how are we gonna make a fire?” Mitch asked.

  “Weren’t any of you guys Boy Scouts?” said Mason. “There are several ways to make fire, we’ll find a way.”

  Jesse was still fixated on the problem of being stuck on an island occupied by dangerous creatures. “But what about the sliggers?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” Mitch shrugged. “Maybe the fire will keep them away. We can have torches or something.”

  “That’s the spirit,” smiled Mason.

  “So who came up with the name ‘sligger’ for these things?”

  Eaver remembered vividly. “My mom’s cook, ol’ Cinch. He said they reminded him of monsters called sliggers that his Creole grandma used to tell him about, back when he was growing up in Louisiana.”

  “The ‘bogeyman of the water’ is what he said,” Mason recalled.

  “I don’t suppose we could try swimming back,” wondered Jesse.

  Danny shook his head. “That’s like thirty miles of ocean. With currents going everywhere, it’s just not a good idea. Even if we had a raft or something, there’s no telling where we’d end up.”

  “And sharks,” said Eaver. “The water’s full of bull sharks, tigers, and blacktips between here and there.”

  “Plus,” Mason pointed out, “don’t forget sliggers swim in there too.”

  The group could feel the mood get heavier. The discussion was only bringing more despair and hopelessness. They were silent, their glassy stare aimed down at the sand.

  “I believe you said something about making a fire,” Eaver reminded, trying to break the solemn atmosphere.

  “Yes,” said Mason, snapping to. “Yes, yes, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He scanned the beach area for anything good to burn. There was grass, bark, and driftwood in the sand that seemed dry enough.

  He rummaged through the dead wood and grabbed a piece of bark sturdy enough to be used as a fireboard. Then he found a jagged rock and dug a groove along the inside of the bark.

  Danny watched intently, intrigued by what Mason was doing. “You learned that in Boy Scouts?” he asked.

  Mason nodded. “I did. This and a bunch of other nifty stuff.” He faced the beach. “Now, before we get ahead of ourselves, we should make a pit for the fire.”

  He walked to the center of the beach and dropped to his knees. “C’mon, we’re gonna dig out an area for a bonfire. Maybe five or six feet wide?” He began scooping out sand with his hands.

  The others knelt down with him and started excavating the pit area. “How deep?” Danny asked.

  “As deep as we want,” said Mason, “it’s just to help protect the fire from any wind. Let’s do like a foot and a half deep.”

  Once the pit was ready, Mason gathered a bunch of dried grass and piled it in the center. Then he got a few handfuls of twigs and dead branches for kindling and placed them at the perimeter. Finally, keeping one of the sturdier sticks with him, he returned to the bark fireboard. Setting a small nest of grass tinder at the end, Mason began vigorously rubbing the tip of the stick up and down the groove.

  It did not take long for the stick to create tiny embers and plow them into the grass. Seeing this, Mason quickly brought the bark up to his face and started blowing, gently, until the embers ignited the tinder. Then he hastily brought the fireboard to the pit and pushed the burning grass onto the pile within. The rest of the grass started to burn nicely. Mason put the kindling on top so it would catch fire, and it did.

  “Fuck yeah!” said Mitch. “Awesome job, dude.”

  Mason grinned proudly. “Okay, now once that’s going, we’ll put some thicker stuff on top to keep it going.” He looked around, seeing small parts of driftwood and scattered wood from where the group had shot up the dead tree stump. “Like that stuff.”

  The others jumped to attention and retrieved the bigger pieces. They brought them to the fire pit and added them to the flames, building a pyramid of wood to burn. The group then stood back and watched it gradually build until it was a nice blaze sending white smoke into the sky. The billowing plume gave them a glimmer of hope that somebody out there might see their signal fire.

  “Now we just have to keep it burning,” said Mason. “C’mon, let’s go find more firewood. As much as we can.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The lunch rush was over. Sherrie Robinson scuttled to the dining area tables to give them a quick wiping down. Then she would get back to the kitchen to wash dishes and pans while Cinch prepped for dinner.

  While cleaning one of the wooden tables, a smile crept upon her face. She remembered little Eaver growing up cleaning these tables, and whenever little Mason was here, he would help her. Those kids practically lived in the restaurant when school was out. Unless they were outside fishing, climbing trees, or playing on the beach.

  Sherrie loved having her own restaurant. But she was not sure how Eaver felt about the prospect of taking over. She knew her daughter had been interested in pursuing college and finding a life somewhere outside Sweetboro, but that made Sherrie sad. She wanted her daughter to someday take the reins and keep Sherrie’s Shack alive.

  Yes, she admitted, it was a little selfish. She loved her daughter more than anything in the world, but she realized she might have to let her go one day. She would be lonely without her daughter’s company if Eaver ever left.

  The budding romance between Mason and Eaver pleased Sherrie very much. As long as Mason stayed in town to be the sheriff, Eaver would likely remain as well. And Sherrie loved Mason. He grew up to be a wonderful young man, and he made her daughter happy. Maybe they would even get married someday. Maybe there would be grandchildren after that. Sherrie’s smile grew a little wider. Life was good.

  She decided to call Eaver and see if they could all spend the evening together. Sherrie set down her cleaning rag and dialed her daughter. Putting the phone to her ear, she heard the call immediately go to voicemail.

  “Hey, it’s your momma,” Sherrie said after the beep. “Just wanted to see what y’all were up to tonight, and if maybe you’d wanna come over and hang out. I love you.”

  With a shrug, she resumed cleaning. After the dining tables were ready for customers, she walked past the counter and into the kitchen. Then she filled the steel sink and began to wash the dishes and silverware.

  “She didn’t pick up?” asked Cinch, Sherrie’s cook and good friend. The seventy-one-year-old Creole from Louisiana had been working for her for the last twenty years in the restaurant, and he had become family. And Cinch made some of the best gumbo, chowder, and barbeque to be found anywhere.

  “No,” Sherrie replied, “I had to leave a voicemail.”

  “It’s Saturday,” the Creole noted. “De
y are out doin’ young people stuff.”

  “Yeah, Eaver did say they were going out boating today.” With that, Sherrie devoted her attention to the plates in the sink. Then she scrubbed the pots they would need while Cinch prepped the chicken for frying and began cooking his grits.

  When they were ready for the dinner rush, Sherrie stepped to the end of the counter and checked her phone. Eaver had not yet called back. Sherrie figured she would try her daughter again before the customers started filtering in. She dialed, but the call went straight to voicemail once more.

  “Hey, Momma again,” she said, frowning. “Sorry to bug you, just wanted to see if I could get hold of you. I love you, call me back.”

  She ended the call and caught sight of Cinch looking at her. The expression on his face was one of disapproval. “You know, you’re a stalker.”

  Sherrie gasped. “Am not! I’m just a momma.”

  The old cook nodded. “And you were once a young woman like Eaver. So keep dat in mind before you bother her again.”

  “Hush it, you,” she snarled playfully. “Don’t you have grits to tend to?”

  “Grits are comin’ along just fine without me. No need for me to keep botherin’ dem.”

  Sherrie could only smile at his response. “I see,” she said. “I guess I can give Eaver a couple of hours and then try to call her again.”

  “Aww, leave dem be,” he shooed. “Let de kids have a nice weekend to demselves.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The group had found all the dead wood around the beach that could be burned, and piled it near the fire. It was not going to be enough to get them through the night. So they extended their search to the south, toward the flat part of the island. It was a lush area, full of green trees and grasses. Surely there would be plenty of fallen wood there for the group to drag back.

  About forty feet south of the beach, the woods began. Starting there, the group rooted through the grassy ground and collected downed branches. They were also able to break dried limbs free from dying trees. Then they took the harvest back to the beach and added it to the stack. Seeing it was only a small improvement to the pile’s size, they realized it was going to take hours to gather all the wood they would need.

  Each trip they took into the flora brought them deeper into the trees. The farther south they searched, the thicker the forest became. This was good, as that meant more loose wood for them to retrieve.

  There were plenty of oak and cypress trees situated together. Gray Spanish moss hung from some of the oak branches, creating a series of eerie curtains through which the group wandered. Soon they encountered a swampy wetland, surrounded by sedge and palm grass. Cypress roots supporting the tall trees ran down into the marsh water, which was entirely covered by green duckweed and foot-wide lily pads.

  “It’s kinda cool in here,” said Jesse. “Maybe we could find a good spot to hole up and hide, in case those monsters come out.”

  Mason looked around the swamp. The wooded setting would hide them better than the open beach. “I don’t know,” he said. “Something tells me this is just the type of place they would come to.”

  “You think so?” asked Mitch, a little spooked.

  “Maybe. I’m no expert on these things, I just know that they live in water.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Eaver. “This does look like it would be a good place to hide.”

  A light rustling was heard in the palm grass behind them, and they jumped.

  “Or maybe not,” Eaver added tentatively.

  Mason raised his finger. “Hold on, let’s not let our imaginations get the best of us. That was probably just a simple snake or rodent.”

  “Or even a bird nesting in the leaves,” said Danny, trying to calm his own nerves.

  “Right,” Mason agreed.

  Another crunching noise was heard off to the left, and they jumped once more.

  Mason was fairly sure the sounds they heard were from small, harmless animals living in the woods. But he could not help feeling a little edgy. Having barely survived previous confrontations with the horrible creatures, he was terrified by the idea of seeing them again.

  “Come on, guys,” he advised. “Let’s grab whatever we can burn and get back to the fire.”

  The others had no argument. They hurriedly plucked pieces of wood that looked dry enough to burn, filled their arms, and walked briskly back to the beach.

  By the time they returned, they could see the sky glowing orange over the ocean as the sun was starting to set. It was a beautiful sunset, but it delivered a foreboding message. It would be dark soon.

  Mason and Danny positioned more wood in the fire so that it would burn slower. They wanted the wood they had accumulated to last as long as possible. So they mixed in some wood that was not as dry. Plus, they found that placing wetter wood in the flames produced a better plume of white smoke.

  Two hours later, the sky had gone completely dark. It was a clear night, so the stars above were visible and the waning moon was glowing white. Eaver gazed up at the stars, losing herself in the stunning veil of tiny lights.

  “God the stars are beautiful,” she remarked.

  The others looked up and agreed. “Yeah,” said Mason. “When there are no city lights around to glare up the sky, you can see everything.”

  “There’s the Milky Way,” Mitch said, pointing to the dense mass of stars stretching across the heavens. He had never seen it in such vivid detail with his naked eye. “There’s literally hundreds of billions of stars in there,” he added. “And probably almost as many planets.”

  “Wow,” said Danny. “Just imagine what other life forms could possibly be out there. And they’re so far away we’ll never know about them.”

  “I wonder if that’s where the sligger monsters come from,” pondered Jesse, looking at Mason.

  “Aliens?” Mason grimaced, unable to accept that supposition. “I don’t think so. Parts of them look too much like animals we already have here.”

  “I wish we had the guns,” sighed Mitch. “Then we’d be able to take ‘em out.”

  “I wish we had the beer,” Jesse joked. The group laughed heartily at his humorous statement.

  “I could use one right about now,” admitted Mason. “And the water, for that matter. And whatever food we had.”

  Eaver’s stomach was longing for nourishment. “Ooh, don’t mention food. I’m starving.”

  “We’ll find something to eat in the morning,” Mason assured. “And some fresh water.”

  “I just hope we don’t have to end up eating bugs and seaweed,” chuckled Danny, although his worry was genuine.

  “Did anyone tell anybody where we were going today?” asked Mason. He knew he had not, and he looked to Eaver.

  “I just told Momma we were going out boating,” she admitted with a guilty shrug.

  The others stared blankly into the flames, also reporting that they had told nobody on the mainland where they were going today.

  “Well shit,” said Mason. “At least people will know we’re missing on Monday, which is when I told my deputies I’d be back.”

  Danny sighed. “That’s when I’m supposed to be at the store next. But I don’t know that any of my employees will think much of it if I don’t show up.”

  The group was silent for several minutes, saying nothing while quietly reflecting. The sound of the crackling fire combined with the waves lapping the shore in the background was pleasant. Almost soothing. A peaceful feeling settled on the group, despite their situation of being stranded.

  Then something else was heard. It sounded like a small boulder rolling slowly, or like a cow meandering through the grass. Eaver frowned, turning her head to face the dark. “Did you hear that?”

  Mason had. “Yeah…” His eyes were scanning the same area Eaver was watching. “I did.”

  Jesse fidgeted. “What? What was it?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Eaver. “Could’ve just been the same critters we heard in the w
oods earlier.”

  It was quiet now, save the sounds of the ocean and the fire.

  “Let’s hope that’s all it was,” Danny whispered. His heart was beating faster, knowing that the possible danger they feared could find them at any time.

  They heard the sound again, like something rolling in the tall grass. It was a little more pronounced, as if it had come nearer.

  Tensing, the group turned and looked in the direction of the noise. The dancing light from the fire made the grass above the beach visible, but nothing beyond that.

  Jesse was anxious and fearful. “What the hell is that?” he whined. His voice made the source of the sound move once more.

  “There it is again,” said Eaver, and everybody fell silent.

  There was now a foul scent in the air, like rotten eggs.

  Suddenly a blur of motion could be seen at the edge of the firelight’s reach. It looked like a flurry of long limbs propelling something dark toward them. Something wild, something savage. Two more of them instantly appeared, joining the first in a rush down the beach.

  The group sprang to their feet as the creatures came for them.

  “Jesus!” Danny screamed, every muscle in his body constricting at the sight of the creatures. He had seen this nightmare before. These were indeed the same monsters he remembered from last year, when the police boat he was on was attacked by one of them. They had the same long tentacles, the same slick, olive-green skin, and the same huge, black eyes. Bone-chilling hisses spewed from their wide jaws.

  “Back, back, back!” said Mason, calling for everybody to get behind the fire.

  The creatures slowed their charge when they got to the fire, unsure of the strange, hot brightness. They were mystified by the flames, but also warily hesitant to get too close to the heat. The beasts circled the fire to get to their prey.

  “Fuckfuckfuck…” Jesse burbled, about to lose the feeling in his legs. He watched in terror as the monsters moved. Their reptilian tails and thick, amphibious legs worked together to keep them upright and pushing forward. They used four-foot tentacles, three on each side, to maintain their balance. The firelight reflected in their black eyes, and Jesse saw the flash of a milky lens when they blinked. But his eyes were mostly fixed on the short, wide snouts filled with needle-like teeth.